


Long Sleeves

by gayloath



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cutting, Depression, Gen, POV Hinata Shouyou, POV Second Person, References to Depression, Sad, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 10:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16852408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayloath/pseuds/gayloath
Summary: You’d never seen Tobio Kageyama wearing long sleeves... At least, not until you were third years.





	Long Sleeves

You’d never seen Tobio Kageyama wearing long sleeves. He always claimed to be hot and seldom wore pants in the first place. He otherwise sported plain shorts and a t-shirt. At least, not until you were third years.

You could tell that something was wrong with him, everyone could tell, but no one knew what it was. He wasn’t as lively as he used to be. He didn’t make fun of you anymore; the rivalry between you two was completely gone. During classes he’d do nothing but stare out the window. His grades plummeted. He didn’t go to any parties. He didn’t laugh at your jokes. Your stupid jokes that were so stupid they were funny. Sure, he sat with you and the guys, but he didn’t contribute much to your conversations. He even stopped talking to girls altogether.

He was 66 kg last March. You know that because after practice one day, Tanaka and Nishinoya bet that he was less than 65 kg and he proved them wrong with a scale. Weird bet, but you guess they’re weird people who do weird things. The thing is, he doesn’t look like someone who weighs 66 kg anymore. You’re scared he’ll break his wrist when he sets the ball to you now. Not that he sets much to you lately.

 

“Man, I’m so excited for Monday,” Tanaka said as the bell rang.

Tomorrow would be your last Week Without Walls trip. Tanaka, Kageyama, and you had planned on rooming together.

You smiled and nodded at Tanaka, but noted Kageyama’s silence.

 

On the bus, you sat a row behind Kageyama, on the opposite side of the aisle. You reached out to tap his shoulder (you’d just thought of something you’d found worth sharing a laugh at) but stopped when I saw his head was hanging almost lifelessly. You pulled back.

You don’t know how to tell him you’re worried about him. You’re not really the kind of guy that people talk about their issues to. You’re just too immature. It’s true. You act like a fifth grader sometimes, and you know that, and you embrace it. But a fifth grader doesn’t seem to be what Kageyama needs to talk to right now.

 

Tanaka went out with Coach Ukai and the rest of the team to go to the Sensou-ji Temple. Kageyama and you agreed that you were too tired after the whole day spent playing volleyball, so you both stayed at the hotel.

After a few quiet minutes of checking social media, Kageyama stood up and said, “I’m gonna take a shower.” He pulled out a towel and a change of clothes from his luggage then silently went into the bathroom.

You turned the TV on and surfed through the channels, only to find all of them news channels, with the exception of TV Tokyo. You watched the news for a while, something you don’t do very often, then gave in to your childish desires and watched an episode of _Attack on Titan_.

You checked your phone. More than thirty minutes had passed since he’d gone in.

“Kageyama,” you said loudly, “are you alright in there?”

There was no answer.

You sighed and got up to check on him. Your head, on the other hand, didn’t feel like sighing. It was throbbing with the anxiety of seeing what Kageyama was possibly doing in the bathroom.

You knocked on the door twice.

No reply.

You cleared your throat, then knocked and said, “Hey, you okay?”

Nothing.

 _What to do, what to do?_ You thought, thinking of a way to get Kageyama out.

“Listen, Kageyama, I’m coming in.”

You took a deep breath and opened the door.

Kageyama sat on the edge of the tub, naked, with his back towards the door. His shoulders went up and down as he breathed in, and then he turned around.

You will never forget look he gave you. Tears streaked his bright red face, snot ran down his nose, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen, begging, “Help me.”

He let out a sob and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Only then did you see red, a vague blur on his forearm.

You charged towards him, “Kageyama, what are you d —" and cut yourself off with a gasp.

 _Oh my God_.

There was a wide stream of blood in the base of the bathtub, dripping from Kageyama and running its way to the drain.

You rubbed your face in your hands and glanced down at Kageyama.

_His arms…_

… were completely covered in cuts, crisscrossing into each other, all around the length of your pinky finger. Most of them went across. A few of them, near his inner elbow, were bleeding. But there was one longer scar that went along his left arm.

In his pretty fingers was a blade, maybe one of the replaceable types from those old-fashioned razors.

You cautiously took it from his hand, thankfully without any resistance from Kageyama. You inspected it and realized it was broken from a pencil sharpener. You threw it across the bathroom.

His thighs were almost entirely concealed in long, thin red lines. The ones closer to his hips were old and scarring; the ones closer to his knees fresh.

He was _so skinny_. His ribs were a xylophone in his chest.

You stepped into the tub and hugged Kageyama, impulsively, but careful not to touch any open wounds as well as not to crush his fragile skeleton.

“Kageyama,” your voice trembled.

Your arms were wrapped around his scarred shoulders. The lines were wider than those on his wrists and they were protruding from his skin. And they weren’t new. They looked at least a year old.

You felt his member against your stomach — he was naked after all — but it didn’t feel sexual whatsoever. It was more like hugging a small child who had fallen and scraped his knee, except a scrape could not possibly be compared to this.

You pulled away, held his shoulders, and looked into his glossy eyes, “Do you have any other blades?”

He shook his head no.

“Do you want me to help you clean up?”

He opened his mouth to speak but all he could manage was a croak. He shook his head no again.

“Okay. I’ll go now. Clean up. We’ll talk afterwards.” You stood up. “Only if you’re comfortable enough with it.” You picked up the blade and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. Before you forgot, you ran across the room, opened the window, and threw the bloody blade out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm not sure if I should make a sequel to explain why Kageyama's done this to himself, but I don't really have his reason in mind; I just wanted to write this scene out. If you guys have any suggestions, let me know.
> 
> yeet :')


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